


A Tiny Apartment, a hammock, a mug and a vase of flowers...

by TheBabeWithThePowerLevelOver9000



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Babysitting, One-Shot or More, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-20 01:26:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10652115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBabeWithThePowerLevelOver9000/pseuds/TheBabeWithThePowerLevelOver9000
Summary: Mirai Trunks is taking a break during the 10 day wait before the Cell Games. Bulma has an awkward request.





	A Tiny Apartment, a hammock, a mug and a vase of flowers...

**Author's Note:**

> This One-Shot began as a prompt to write something, anything with the stipulation to include: a tiny apartment, a hammock, a mug and a vase of flowers somewhere in the details. 
> 
> February 2017
> 
>  
> 
> I do have more in mind and written out for The Cell Saga time period of DBZ concerning the disjointed Briefs family, so this piece does carry a vague continuity with some of that stuff-- mostly just headcanon things, that seem fairly reasonable.
> 
> Enjoy!

It was a tiny apartment that served as temporary housing for the traveler out of time. Tiny. Too small almost, but it was home more than any other part of Capsule Corp was. It had been simple to explain. Not much had been left unmarred in Trunks' time and the sparsely decorated accommodation had been his shelter for seventeen years. It was strange looking at it now from the carefully coiled safety of the bed sheets. The makeshift hammock swayed with the young warrior's weight as he dozed. The square room had one small window which let light in for a few hours only once a day. Those hours were on the wane and the shadow of the cracked coffee mug on the squat square tabletop was stretched long and lazy on the white surface. Much like the teen himself. Regularly, in his own time, he would have been far from idle. The constant fight to survive had a way of preoccupying one's day. Sure, there was plenty of impeding disaster in this time too... but it had requested a holiday, which... was unnerving. What was the purpose of this kind of tactic? 

It boggled the mind. What was the advantage to the delay? He could not wrap his head around it. His senses piqued and he sat up in the hammock mid sway, eyes straining to the small window. The light inside the Gravity Chamber blipped and the compact warrior swayed at the opening. Pausing just a moment before descending. Trunks glanced at the prim clock on the far wall. A bit early for pause today. 

The quiet tapping on the door begging for his attention and Trunks eased himself out of the bed sheet hammock. It had taken him some time but he had mastered the feat without dumping himself onto the floor unceremoniously. He smoothed out the wrinkles on his pajama bottoms and pulled the door open. There she was. 

His mother.

Well. Younger... this time's Bulma. 

“Hi, Trunks.” She smiled wide at him. 

“Hi, mother.” Small round blue eyes glared up at him from her arms. His round blue eyes. Looking at his baby-self gave him a bit of a migraine. Especially when it... he... glared at him like that. That smart little guy was on to the whole thing, no doubt. Trunks mussed up the back of his hair and invited her into the small apartment. 

“Well... this is tidy.” Bulma looked around the sparse room and it was tidy. It was not an exaggeration. What little the boy had brought with him from the future leaned in its sheathe against the short dresser. Bulma touched the fitted jacket draped over the back of a chair. “I haven't had much time lately to work on your time machine; but it shouldn't be too hard to get back together-- you know, for your return trip home. If- if you still want to go back there.”

“Thank you. I do.” Trunks' worn fingers came together tip-to-tip as he considered both the paradox of the baby staring at him with an awed skepticism that he clearly got from Vegeta, and the grim possibility that he would be stuck in this time for the rest of his natural life and never see his birth mother again. “Since I am not training today, I could assist you.”

“That would be great for tomorrow. I actually came over here to ask you a really big favor.”

“Oh? What favor?” 

“Could you... babysit... yourself?” As she asked it, she realized the awkwardness of the request.

“Huh?”

“Just for … an hour or two. I wouldn't normally ask...”

“Because it's bizarre?” 

“I think he'll be fine.” The baby shifted and glowered at his bigger self. 

“Yeah, but what about me?”

“You're a big kid. You can handle it.” Bulma foisted the baby into Trunks' arms. “Besides, it's either you or Vegeta, and... let's be honest here. Which psychological trauma do you want to be more responsible for?” 

“Fair point.” Trunks shifted the squirming sack of baby and hung onto him like his destiny depended on it. “What's the sudden occasion.”

“Oh... just a mystery date with a secret admirer.” Bulma looked ten years younger to the half-saiyan while she beamed and described to him a beautiful vase of multi-colored flowers that had been delivered to the lab this morning. The accompanying note tied to the bunch with a red ribbon, indicated a romantic rendezvous with the sender. Trunks recognized the vague lean of the letters on the small card and poorly concealed a smirk behind the baby of himself who was now yanking on the long strands of his hair disapprovingly. 

“Sounds wonderful. Wear the flowers in your hair, mom”. 

“Oh. What an excellent idea. Thanks!”

“Don't be late”. The teal haired woman ducked out of the tiny dwelling with a particular giddiness that he found admirable. Maybe uncertainty had already forecasted change. 

“Great. Now it's just me and you...” Trunks saved his hair from the baby and sighed at himself. “Just have to keep me alive for three hours... I hope.”

**Author's Note:**

> Headcanon: Mirai Trunks lives in fear of being left alone with his baby self and/or just being exposed to his alternate self for too long in general, because... of all of the potential trauma. Also everything must be awkward, especially with Bulma. 
> 
>  
> 
> Proverb: Being 17 in a 19 year old body is not easy... but neither is babysitting your 10 month old self.


End file.
